


All the wrongs, they feel so right

by MFLuder



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Age Swap, Anal Sex, Come Eating, Consensual Underage Sex, Dick Grayson is Robin, First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Manipulation, Rimming, Stomach Distention, Thumb-sucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:47:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23471206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MFLuder/pseuds/MFLuder
Summary: Robin is a tease and Damian is bound for Hell.Again.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne
Comments: 10
Kudos: 188





	All the wrongs, they feel so right

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Richard Grayson Week prompt for April 10th: Robins Raised Together | **Age Reversal** | Never Adopted.
> 
> Inspired by [this piece of art](https://twitter.com/gogglesyor18/status/1248634002874830848?s=12) (NSFW and heed those fic warnings above before viewing), which I realize isn't DickDami, but on my first glance I totally thought it _was_ age-swapped DickDami and it fit perfectly with the Dick Grayson Week prompt, so. Thank you to this artist for inspiring a whole other fandom work with their art.

Damian Wayne is going to hell. 

He’s been there once before, of course. But after this, Lucifer’s own blessing could not keep him out.

Because Richard – _Robin_ – is underneath him, squirming, and only clothed in his blue shirt, kissing Damian like a whore. Richard is fifteen.

Only ten minutes before, they were sitting on the overstuffed couch in his sitting room, where he has his personal library and office for working on cases, watching one of Richard’s infantile action-filled movies he so enjoys, and which Damian tolerates only for him. Damian truly hadn’t even been following the plot. He, admittedly, had been focused on watching Richard eat popcorn, his bangs in his eyes, but the slight crinkle of them as he laughs at some inane banter from the two male leads still visible in between his dark strands. Throughout the movie, though, he abandons the popcorn in favor of rubbing his belly, twisting his shirt up, his hand creeping lower and lower with each pass until Damian’s eyes are drawn to the tiniest pooch of skin from where his shorts dig in. 

Damian’s own hand continues caressing Richard’s small shoulder, nothing unusual. Comforting.

Dirty.

Not that he meant for it to be dirty. But it was. More so because Richard has been playing at this for weeks. Maybe longer. But Damian has caught on to Richard’s flirtatious smiles, his handsiness with Damian and _only_ Damian, the way he flashes his soft stomach and does an extra backflip or five whenever Damian is watching. Showing off.

Damian should not be catering to Richard at all in this. Should put his foot down and have a talk. His father had already had _the_ talk with the boy, right when he brought the then-twelve-year-old boy into Wayne Manor, and he knows Richard hangs around a lot of teens in his down time, knows that seventeen-year-old Barbara Gordon has a crush on him, as do some of the other current Teen Titans who are a little younger – and even some who aren’t. Dick is…vivacious. Charming. Kind. Who wouldn’t have a crush on the sweetest teen in existence?

None of it excuses the fact that Damian – the oldest of almost all the sidekicks, the ones who have passed their Teen Titans days and have all taken their own mantles, some even, like his best friend Jon Kent, joining the League on an occasional basis – _wants_.

The boy was his partner for two years before Father came back; there had been barely any time between Bruce taking in Richard Grayson as his ward after his parents’ murder and his presumed death. Tim had been mad with the belief that Bruce was still alive – turned out he was right – but Damian had tried to move on. Part of that, was picking up his father’s mantle and continuing Richard’s apprenticeship.

In that time, he’d grown to appreciate the boy, despite his tendency to howl ridiculous puns at villains, flirt with any girl or woman who crossed his path, and his inability to be serious during patrol. What had at first driven Damian to threaten to kick the boy out until Jason intervened – surprising given his initial dislike of the ‘replacement’ – eventually became his saving grace. Damian had been in a dark place, contemplating his twisted legacy of al Ghul and Wayne heritage and what kind of Batman he wanted to be, what the city needed him to be, and there was Richard, his solemn thirteen-year-old face looking up at Damian while hugging him, telling him he was proud of Damian, that Batman would have been proud, all because Damian held back on a killing blow.

Damian is not the kind of man who would have regretted such an action, but he would have regretted the outcome of friends and family turning away. Richard reminded him of that.

Then, a year ago, Father returned, and Richard once more became Robin to Bruce’s Batman instead of Damian’s. For six months, Damian fled to his mother, aching with longing; both for the mantle and Richard’s friendship. When Damian graced Gotham with his presence once more, the boy had grown another three inches, though still coming in at just over five feet, and had lost his baby fat everywhere but his face and stomach. He was still thin, still small, but beginning to look like he might not always be so.

And he had looked at Damian differently from then on.

All which led to this moment, Richard snuggling into his side, moving his hand down his spandex shorts.

Damian stops that hand before it gets too involved. He pauses the movie as well.

“Richard.”

“Yes, Damian?” the boy asks, eyes wide with innocence even as Damian knows his hand is on his cock. He exerts pressure on his fine-boned wrist in an effort to stop feeling its small movements. To his credit, Richard does not flinch.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting you to finally touch me.”

At that, Damian yanks his hand back and pushes Richard away from him, ensuring the blanket moves with him.

“Come on, Big D,” Richard says with a pout. “I know you know. I’m younger, but I’ve been trained by him, too. I know you’ve picked up on my signals. You know something’s changed between us. I knew you wouldn’t make the first move, so I had to. And B’s gone right now.”

“You planned this,” Damian says, voice flat. He tries to avoid noticing how Richard continues to move his hand underneath the blanket, the little gasps of pleasure he makes, but it’s difficult given he’s barely an arm’s length away.

“I want you, D.”

“You don’t know what you want.”

“You want me, too. I see you watching me when I train.”

“I’m supposed to watch you train.”

“Not with your eyes on my ass, you’re not.”

“Richard, I—”

The thing is, if Damian really had wanted to, he could have stopped Richard. Damian has been trained longer, better. Richard is fast and graceful, but he hasn’t reached his peak yet. In the time that it takes for him to wriggle out of his shorts and then crawl out from under the blanket and over to Damian, his bare ass high in the air, placing his hand and mouth on Damian’s cock through his sweatpants, Damian could have jumped from the couch. He could have told Richard no. He could have covered the boy with the blanket, thrown him over his shoulder and dumped him on his bed, slamming the door shut behind him in an emphatic demonstration of _no_.

Instead, in that moment of time, Damian considers how cute Richard is and how bereft he felt when Richard was taken away and how, yes, things have changed, even if they shouldn’t have. Not yet. Not for another three years. Or more. Or never.

But Richard has always been precocious, and Hell has its grip on Damian; it seems his path is paved.

Instead of shutting him down, Damian’s hand falls on Richard’s silky straight hair as it hangs over his face as he mouths at Damian. Damian, who had the wherewithal to decide _not_ to put on underwear, so the heat of Richard’s mouth quickly seeps through the one layer of fabric and has Damian’s hips shifting up and into his gentle grip. 

“Baby b—. We can’t,” he pants, protesting, even as he knows, as long as Richard pursues this, he’s going to give in. “I’m almost twice your age. Twenty-seven. You’re _underage_.”

Richard crawls up him, somehow looking seductive and innocent at the same time. He sits in Damian’s lap, his small but capable hands tangling in Damian’s hair. His cheeks are pink. He grinds down on Damian’s burgeoning erection.

“I can feel that you want this. I want your cock, D. I want to feel it all the way to my throat, Dami.” He pauses, head tilted, coquettish. “You called me baby,” he says.

Fuck. _Fuck_.

“I’d be so good,” Richard whines. He grabs Damian’s hand, so big even in both of his, and places it on his hard cock. He’s small here, too, generally undersized, even if he has the potential to grow long and lean in adulthood. Damian’s hand eats it all up, from root to tip. But it’s soft and velvety; maybe even untouched except by Richard’s hand.

Damian can’t help it. His other hand slides around Richard’s back, feels his small, pert bottom, makes Richard squirm against him.

“I know I’m not underage where you were born.”

It figures this is one piece of his lessons Richard retains.

He’s not wrong. Where the al Ghul’s reside, the government allows brides of fifteen and there is no such thing as the age of consent. Talia herself recounted the first time she had sex – at age thirteen – to Damian when he was only ten. It was one of her many ‘lessons’. But Damian has been in his father’s country for seventeen years – longer than Richard’s _whole life_ – so such an argument should have no merit. _Has_ no merit. 

If he can adhere to Batman’s no killing rule, he can adhere to this one. Technically, Richard would be legal in three years. He’d only have to wait…

His thoughts are distracted by Richard’s lips on his neck, by his hand pushing Damian’s down to between his asscheeks.

“That’s not…my government is backwards, Richard.”

“I consent. I give you my consent. Please, D. Fuck me; I need you to fill me with your huge cock.”

Fuck, the _mouth_ on this kid. 

“Who taught you these things?” he asks, even as he’s shifting and wrapping his little bird’s legs around his waist as he moves from his anteroom to the bedroom proper. Richard’s hands snake around his neck, a grin huge on his face and a twinkle in his eye. Damian’s hands are still gripping his ass and small cock; Richard knows he’s won.

“The internet,” he says, “Books. And Roy.”

“I’m going to murder that arrow-shooting redhead,” Damian growls, clutching Richard closer, like he can protect him from Harper’s uncouth words. 

“Don’t,” Richard responds. “Jason has a crush on him.”

Damian snarls. “If you think that’ll stop me…”

Richard kisses him silent and Damian lets him.

He lays Richard down on the bed as he opens his mouth to the boy, crowds over him, still dressed in his black tee and gray sweatpants, while Richard is in nothing but his super soft tee the color of his eyes. Richard’s lips are soft, and Damian’s mouth easily swallows him up, but his tongue is insistent, wet, surprisingly talented.

He tastes like butter and sin.

Damian pulls away, trying not to sweat after one kiss from this _boy_. “Who have you been kissing, Richard?”

Richard looks at him, flirtatious in his once over, the way he licks his lips and parts them. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“ _Mine_ ,” Damian finds himself growling again, forcing his lips back down on Richard’s, forcing his mouth to open, his jaw to part, pushing his big tongue inside.

“Yours,” Richard moans when they finally separate, a string of saliva caught in between that Damian jealously follows with his eyes until he licks back inside Richard’s hot, pink mouth. “I only kissed them, so I’d know how to with you, D.”

Possessiveness surges through Damian, even as his stomach twists, knowing its wrong. But Richard is his, dammit. His Robin, his apprentice, _his_.

“No more kissing them,” he growls and dives in again, this time also pushing Richard’s tee up so that it is bunched around his armpits, thumbing at his nipples.

Richard arches into the touch.

Damian pinches them, breaks away and, when seeing Richard’s cheeks have turned red, and his nipples grown hard, pinches them again, and again. He leans down and bites, then suckles like Richard can give him life.

“D, D,” Richard whines, squirming, his hands running through Damian’s hair. “Want you. Only you.”

Richard reaches down with fumbling hands and goes for Damian’s waistband.

Damian moves one hand to try to stop him, but Richard insists, pushes both hands into his pants, a determined look on his face. He’s biting his lip and practically glaring at Damian, challenging him to stop Richard.

His hand reaches Damian’s erection and the breath hisses through his teeth; Richard looks victorious, baby face gazing up at him, blue eyes burning bright like the hottest part of a flame.

Damian is consumed.

He lets Richard push his pants down. His cock springs free.

“Knew you’d be big. Big D.” The double entendre cracks Richard up, his chest hiccupping with laughter even as his hands caress Damian’s cock. “You’re hot here. Do you like my hands or am I too small?”

Six months ago, Damian would have thought a small hand never would never feel good. He prefers men’s big, calloused grips over a woman’s smaller, daintier hand, though he has no preference between a wet cunt and a tight ass, both having their perks. But this is Richard and it’s a thousand times wrong, but it feels better than anything ever has before.

“You are doing great, baby,” he says, once more failing to add the ‘bird’ after; his usual nickname for Richard. Both sound good in his mouth, but Richard flushes and Damian thinks that he likes the pet name. He mouths up Richard’s neck, careful to not leave marks, as Richard’s hands explore Damian’s length and girth.

Eventually, Richard wriggles out from under him, leaving Damian confused until he realizes Richard is crawling towards his nightstand. The view of his ass is perfect. Small, paler than the rest of him, and his cheeks part enough to let Damian have a titillating glance at his puckered hole. The way it looks, in between Richard’s soft thighs, balls hanging – he grabs a hold of his cock at the base, an intense wave of want coursing down his spine.

Then he sees Richard dig through the top draw and turn back to him, on his knees, holding a bottle of lube aloft in victory.

The audacity. The guile. The _brat_.

Richard comes back and lays down, setting the bottle next to his ass, then uses his hands to push his tee back up, bringing the bottom edge up and into his mouth like a pose found in Playboy, running his hands down his body until he jacks his cock.

“Mmm, Dami,” he mumbles, around the tee in his mouth. “Get me wet.”

“Richard, I—”

He lets go of the tee, fabric falling down to pool around his neck. “I’ll do it, but I want you to. Finger me. Stretch me for your big cock.”

Damian’s tired of trying to resist. He grabs the bottle and wets one finger generously. “You should flip over. I don’t want to hurt—”

“No, like this,” Richard retorts, confident.

Damian sighs and then heaves an even bigger breath out as Richard parts his downy-covered thighs and lifts his knees from the bed so that his hole is more visible for Damian to find. This boy, _his_ boy, his responsibility, parting his legs, cheeks red but unabashed in his desire, is almost too much. 

He moves his finger down and presses it between his cheeks, presses it to his hole when he finds it, moves that finger around the rim until Richard is moving his hips aimlessly, seeking more pressure, more _something_. Damian uses his other hand to grab a hold of his hip and keep him still.

“I’m not going to let you hurt yourself, baby bird.”

Richard nods, but looks put upon, anyway.

Damian coats his finger again, nudging up and against his hole, rimming it, pressing in with the very tip. Richard jumps, body jolting under the pressure of his hand, mouth opening as his eyes roll back.

“More,” he whispers.

Damian pushes his forefinger in more, to the first joint. He wriggles it around, trying to ensure the lube gets all inside, even as he’s gritting his teeth at the feeling of how hot and tight Richard is inside.

He pulls it back out and relubes, then repeats the process, but pressing in to the second joint, then the knuckle, until his other fingers are brushing Richard’s ass.

They repeat the process with Richard saying nothing at first, just breathing slow and biting his lip until Damian thinks the indent of his teeth will become permanent, until Richard is finally writhing on three fingers and begging, _demanding_ Damian fuck him.

He finally pulls all his fingers out. They are sopping wet with lube, and Richard’s hole, still barely looking stretched, is dripping, too. 

“I’m ready, I swear, Dami, _please_.”

He can’t resist Richard’s begging anymore, nor his aching erection, and so he tugs his sweats down a little lower and arranges Richard onto his side, leg in the air. He leans down, splitting his legs easily for an acrobat, and kisses him wet and sloppy, tongue teasing his out, wrapping and enveloping Richard’s. He kisses him until Richard cannot breathe anymore, until he’s whimpering, then he pulls back.

Damian pours more lube on his cock, fisting himself for a few pumps, before placing the head of it against Richard’s tiny hole. No. It simply will not work.

“Richard. There’s no way, you cannot…I will not fit.”

“I can do it, Damian. My body’s flexible. You know that. Put it in me. Please, please, _pleasepleaseplease_ …”

“Alright, baby. I will,” he says, soothing, trying to stop Richard from spinning into a panic at _not being fucked_.

He pushes forward and slips, his cock shoving along the crack of Richard’s ass instead of in. Richard’s so tight, so small. He repositions himself, spreading Richard wider, pushing his body into a twist where his face is pressed to the pillow, but his ass is tilted into Damian’s hips. He reaches down with his non-lubed hand and guides himself in, watching Richard’s hole first go in and then bulge out when his head slips in.

Richard lets out a cry, instinctively flinching, heaving deep breaths as Damian tells him to _relax, relax Richard_ , even as he’s awed at the sight of Richard speared and full, only from the head of his cock.

“Am I your first, baby bird?”

“Yes,” Richard says, tossing his head back, hands clutching tight on the pillow as he tries to shove himself down on Damian’s cock. So eager. Eager to split himself on Damian’s cock that, even already inside his hole, doesn’t look like it’s going to fit. It’s wrong, it’s so wrong, all of it, and yet Damian can’t hurt this boy, forces himself to keep Richard still, his calf clutched in one hand and thrown over Damian’s elbow.

The sight of Richard – small cock a delightful pink and absolutely leaking, his hole soaked from lube and stretched obscenely on his large dark cock – panting, shirt rucked up above his nipples, his blue eyes shining, grayed with desire barely hits as hard as his next words, though.

“Babs wanted to do it. Roy wanted to suck my cock, too. Said, ‘Dick can I suck you.’ I said no. I want only you, Big D.”

A roaring surge of static rings in his ears, Damian’s brain fizzling, even as he watches Richard bite his lip coyly; the brat knows exactly what he’s doing. Knows how to get to Damian, how to get his way. 

At his words, Damian can’t hold himself back anymore, only hopes he doesn’t actually hurt Richard when he thrusts forward in one smooth move, burying himself in his little apprentice’s sweet, soft body and welcoming ass.

Richard’s resulting cry suggests he isn’t hurt at all and the way his fingers move from the sheets to Damian’s shoulders and dig in, the flicker of a smirk that crosses his round cheeks that are only starting to thin out, to gain the hint of a jawline he’ll have when he’s twenty or so, tells Damian he’s gotten exactly what he wants.

So, he gives in. In for a penny, in for a pound, he supposes. He’s bound for hell one way or the other and if the difference is being soft and slow or giving Richard what he wants, well, Damian hasn’t been able to resist anything Richard’s asked for in these last three years for very long.

He begins to move, still slow, letting Richard’s small frame accommodate him, but in hard, long thrusts that force quiet “oh, ah’s” and breathy moans from Richard’s mouth. His jaw drops open and Damian can see all the way to his tonsils, see how saliva is pooling on the back of the boy’s tongue, watch his plush lips form noises that would be obscene coming from a woman, from a porn veteran, much less his Robin.

“D,” Richard whimpers, trying to clutch him tighter, nails digging in until there will be halfmoons across his shoulders tomorrow for him to remember this by. Marks he’ll have to hide from his father, from Tim’s sharp eye.

Marks, though, he might just parade around Roy’s smug countenance or Babs’ pining one.

Fuck. He’s jealous of goddamned children. Hell is too good for him.

Damian stretches out one hand to cover Richard’s chest. His thumb and pinky finger are able to each reach one of Richard’s perky pink nipples surrounded by large brown areolas, to taunt and tease at them, eliciting a higher-pitched whine from Richard.

He presses in deeper, begins to move faster, leaning over and bending Richard’s acrobatic body in ways most men can’t move, licking into his mouth, drinking up his saliva, ravaging his lips. He pulls back enough to see Richard’s mouth but not unbend his body, and then he leans in again, making his mouth redder, wetter, more kiss-bitten all while Richard moans out his name in between trying to shove his tongue back into Damian’s mouth.

After one particularly hard thrust, he feels Richard’s small hands move from his shoulders down to in between their bodies and he thinks Richard is going to jack himself and he almost stops those hands because Damian wants to do itself, but then Richard pulls away from his mouth and tilts his head back, arching his tender throat and Damian watches his Adam’s apple bob before he speaks.

“D. I can feel you. I’m so full. You’re so big. I can _feel_ you.”

At first Damian is confused because of course Richard can feel him, he’s small and Damian’s cock is definitely above average, plus he’s _inside_ him, but then Richard shakes his head, almost like he knows what Damian is thinking and drags one hand up their bodies to tilt Damian’s chin down.

“No, _look_.”

Damian looks and then he groans and almost comes on the spot. It’s only because of his expert control over his body molded from training – if not his mind, because his mind failed him when Richard climbed into his lap – that he doesn’t.

On his next slide into Richard’s body, he watches as Richard’s hand rises on his belly – and it’s because Damian’s cock is essentially rearranging the boy’s insides and causing his stomach to fucking bulge out. It’s not a lot, not like one might see in grotesquely exaggerated hentai, but enough to make that small, thin tummy, only beginning to develop defined muscles, stretch out.

His hips stutter to a stop, deep inside Richard’s hot body, and he moves the small hand so that he can see clearly. He moves his hips the barest amount, only enough to see essentially the head of his cock move under Richard’s skin. It’s monstrous.

It’s the hottest thing Damian will ever experience in his life.

“Baby boy,” he says, in awe, “how can you even take this? How does it not hurt?”

He barely notices Richard looking at him from under his eyelashes, eyes reflecting a wicked light, so caught up in the small bump. Notice, he does, though, and he thinks to himself, he might not be alone in hell.

“It doesn’t hurt, D. It feels so good. Want _more_. ‘M so full. You’re so big. This is all I want. You filling me up, fucking my insides up so I’m out of shape for anyone else. Roy could never do this to me. B couldn’t even.”

That brings back the roar to Damian’s ears, brain shorting momentarily while he thinks about that image, thinks about how actually Father is bigger than him and it’s not so much about considering his father and Richard, but his father’s size and too-small-for-his-age Richard that has him snapping his hips harshly, thinking about muscles bigger than his, maybe even a cock bigger than his own, utterly destroying Richard’s tiny hole.

“Fuck,” he cries, and that’s it, he comes on the spot, watching as his hips keep moving of their own volition, how the slight bulge grows and shrinks as they do, how Richard is so tight on his cock, so burning hot inside. “Richard,” he growls as he comes and comes, and he knows it is only his imagination, but he swears Richard’s tummy grows bigger, filling up with his semen.

“Dami—D!” Richard cries as his hand moves from his belly to his little cock, an angry red, wet mess of a cock and he begins jacking himself. “More!”

Damian can’t even regret that he’s barely touched that sweet cock, as he watches Richard’s hands move up and down, tears in his eyes, mouth open wide as he struggles to breathe. The air is thick with the scent of come and sweat and male, and the sound of Damian’s cock pushing in and out of Richard’s poor hole now slicked with sticky come. Richard’s sounds get higher pitched and shorter, his face redder until he’s actively crying, and then his cock spurts out hot sparse splashes of come on his body and Damian’s chest. He’s entirely seized up, body clamping down tight on Damian’s cock so that he can’t move and it’s enough to pull another spurt or two from Damian’s own cock and Richard cries out again before his body collapses into something resembling a puddle, barely human.

Richard rubs his own stomach. “So good, Damian. Oh, D, I feel you in me, filling me up; your cock and your seed.”

It’s strange; Damian thinks he should be the one telling Richard he’s a good boy, that he took Damian so well, but he’s too caught up in his little bird’s cooing sounds and the hypnotizing way he strokes his tummy, how he squirms on Damian’s still half-hard cock.

“I’m gonna pull out now, baby bird. Make sure you’re alright.”

Richard nods, almost sleepily. His eyes burn into Damian’s, though.

He grabs his cock and slowly pulls out of Richard, dropping his cock when he sees his come spill out so that he can wipe his fingers in it, push it back into Richard, even as he uses the movement to check and make sure he didn’t hurt or injure Richard. He seems fine, and he moans and fiddles with his soft cock as Damian fingers him, swiping around his rim, playing with his come.

He adjusts Richard’s legs, tossing them both over his shoulders and moves down his boy’s body until he can get his mouth on his red, abused hole. It’s closed, not gaping like a veteran’s despite its size compared to the cock it was just impaled on, but looks _used_ , well-fucked, come spilling out of its clench.

Damian licks up everything, cleaning Richard’s bottom and testicles where his own come had dripped down. By the time Richard has stopped leaking come, he’s panting again, once more pulling at his cock, other hand tight in Damian’s hair and pressing them closer together. Damian finally licks inside. Richard practically _screams_ , yanking Damian’s hair and forcing himself down on Damian’s face and he can feel Richard come across his tongue. He tightens incredibly, and Damian can feel his walls clenching, shifting, even as he hears his name garbled in Richard’s orgasm-loose mouth.

He pulls back but doesn’t get far before Richard is clinging to his arms like a spider monkey, shaking.

“Oh, baby, did I do too much?” he asks, honey-dripped tone, but actually worried.

Richard shakes his head but continues to let tears slip from his closed, scrunched eyes as he still shudders in Damian’s arms.

“Richard, beloved. Little bird. My Robin,” Damian coos and wraps himself tight around his boy. His. Now and forever.

Richard shakes harder. “Beloved?” he asks, eyes blown wide open.

Damian kisses his temple. “You are.”

Eventually Richard comes down and looks up at Damian through sweat-damp hair. He pushes a strand of it behind his ear and licks his lips before kissing Damian.

“Thank you,” he says, still a bit breathy, eyes glimmering like Bahamian ocean water, like Damian’s gifted _him_ something, instead of the other way around.

Damian simply nuzzles into his neck, holding his small body; soft, rounded shapes, interspersed with lanky limbs. Eventually he separates to Richard’s protests as he moves to his en suite, getting a washcloth wet with hot water. He wipes himself down, telling his cock to calm back down, and then returns.

He wipes Richard down gently, starting at his forehead, wiping off sweat and tears, then down to collarbone, his chest, stopping to briefly tease his softened nipples, then down his slim hips, finally, to his cock and ass, tenderly getting every trace of come off his body. Richard simply stares at him, eyes hooded as he does it.

He returns to the bathroom to hang the cloth and looks himself over. His brown skin is barely marked, aside from the nail crescents on his shoulders, but he looks fucked, hair rakish, lips puffy.

Hell. The deepest, deepest bowels. Because he knows he’s going to do it again. If Richard asks, he’ll finger him until he’s crying again, overstimulated. He’ll suck down that sweet little cock, make Richard feel so good. He wants to eat his boy out for hours. Ruin him for anyone else. He’s Damian’s now, and no one else gets to touch him. Not Roy, not Babs, not his father. _No one_.

He walks back into the bedroom proper and his heart clenches, even as his cock twitches to see Richard’s lightly tanned body spread out on his white sheets. There’s a wet spot beneath him.

He climbs onto the bed and pulls Richard away from that spot, tucking him under his chin and wrapping his arms around him.

“Was I good for you, Damian?” Richard asks, sounding strangely self-conscious now that he’s not being fucked.

“Beloved, Richard, my baby bird,” Damian rambles into his hair that smells of coconut shampoo and sweat. “You were so good. So good for me. I can’t believe you took me like that, could take all of me.” He smoothes back Richard’s hair, leans in and kisses him. “You’re perfect.”

“You’re not gonna leave me, right?” Richard asks, clutching his arm. “Not going to be ashamed? I wanted this.”

Damian sighs. “I won’t leave. I can’t leave you. If I could, I’d never have given in. But you know we can’t do this—”

“Can’t do it when B’s around. I know.” Richard sounds older in this moment, more like a weary thirty-something. “But you know I meant it, right? You’re my first, but you didn’t do anything wrong. I wanted sex. I turned down others, not ‘cause I wasn’t ready. But because it’s always been you. I saw you that night. In the crowd. And I know it was a stupid crush, but you stood out. And then getting to move in here and seeing you every day, watching you…I’ve been ready for a year. I held off.”

“Richard,” Damian growls, forcing his face into Richard’s slender neck. He didn’t want Richard three years ago. Not even a year ago. He’s never done this. Never wanted this. It’s still all his fault, even if. Even if. 

“Will you teach me?”

“Teach you what?” Damian asks, tilting his head back up to stare at Richard’s fine, almost bird-like features.

“How to make you happy. Suck your cock. Be good for you.”

“My little bird,” Damian groans. “I’m going to show you everything. And I won’t only be your first. I’ll be your last. Just you wait, little Robin.”

Richard’s eyes glint, and Damian would swear, it’s a demon using a fifteen-year-old’s body because no one so young should radiate such smugness and wanton desire. But then his eyes turn soft and fade back into their usual bright ocean blue. His body relaxes, and his smile turns gentle, youthful.

Richard reaches out, grabbing one of Damian’s hands and pulling it to his mouth. He separates Damian’s fingers and moves his forefinger and middle finger into his mouth, sucking them deep until they almost hit the back of his tongue, pressing up against with his tongue, swirling them around before he settles and lets them sit atop his soft tongue.

Damian quirks up an eyebrow as Richard moves closer, folds himself up so that he’s practically encased by Damian’s chest and arms. He pulls his fingers out and Richard whines.

“You want that, beloved?”

Richard nods, wets his lips.

“Alright. But like this.”

Damian shifts until the hand Richard has just had in his mouth curves over the boy’s lightly tan body, and then takes the one he’d been resting under his head and puts it between them. He puts his hand in a loose thumbs-up position and Richard’s eyes light up.

They lay like that: Richard tucked in between Damian’s hips and the space beneath his chin, one hand on Damian’s chest, loosely gripping as though Damian’s body is a blanket, the other wrapped around his hand as he suckles Damian’s thumb to sleep.

A small part of Damian is terrified someone will discover them, take Richard away, but he locked the bedroom door and Father isn’t destined home for another two days at least from the Watchtower.

So, he cuddles his baby bird and falls asleep to the thought of teaching Richard’s little mouth to take him deep. Of one day ruling Gotham with his beloved by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow and chat with me [on tumblr](http://mf-luder-xf.tumblr.com)!


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